


Scheduling Conflict

by mylordshesacactus



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Gen, shenanigans ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“It doesn't need to be anything symbolic. Formal, but it's just—”</em><br/><em>“Land-use policies with the Gungans,” Eirtaé finished agreeably.</em><br/><em>“A new independent trade agreement with Alderaan,” Padmé finished at the same time.</em><br/> </p><p>Or: Three potential diplomatic incidents, two Amidalas, one burst water main, and the biggest headache Eirtaé is ever likely to experience again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scheduling Conflict

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://handmaidensofnaboo.tumblr.com/post/105401896269/no-force-on-earth-or-heaven-or-in-a-galaxy-far). 

 

It was nearly impossible to see the small sigh of relief Queen Amidala gave as the doors to the audience chamber closed behind their last petitioner of the day. She didn't telegraph her actions nearly enough for it to be visible; only someone who knew her better than they knew themselves could possibly have noticed the slight relaxing of tension along her body, the faint exhalation.

Naturally, Sabé spotted it instantly.

 _Not long now, my lady,_ she thought, keeping her expression carefully neutral to hide a fond smile. Their Queen was entirely devoted to her duty and such audiences were of the utmost importance to her, never an annoyance; but it had been a long day to spend in a heavy headdress, stiff robes, and formal makeup. She could be forgiven for being glad it was over.

“That was the last of them, your highness,” Captain Panaka confirmed from the door. He crossed back to them briskly, just in time to offer Amidala his arm—and she _was_ Amidala, here; in this room, she could not possibly be anything else. She accepted it gracefully, allowing him to help her stand as she gathered her heavy skirts.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said formally. The handmaidens on duty closed in, keeping a respectful distance.

“Will you be attending the concert tonight?” he asked, stepping back now that the Queen was settled properly on her feet.

There was a small amount of genuine surprise on her face. “Concert?”

Panaka smiled. “A small performance by the collegiate orchestra. The Queen has an open invitation to attend, your highness. It won't cause offense if you miss it; they're not expecting you.”

For the briefest possible moment, Sabé and the others watched her weigh the option—she always liked to give people pleasant surprises when she could.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said again, equally formal but this time allowing for a small smile. “But if our presence will not be missed, I would prefer to take an early night. Tomorrow will be busy, and I would like to be well-rested.”

He acknowledged the decision with a small bow. “Then I'll say goodnight, your highness, and wish you a pleasant evening.”

The Queen smiled more warmly, inclining her head as he withdrew, and then heaved the first proper sigh she'd allowed herself all day.

* * *

 “I thought you handled the electoral committee very well,” Rabé said, frowning as she picked at a small knot that had worked its way into the Queen's hair. “We don't want to rush things, but I think you were right. It's important to make sure the next election goes forward as planned.”

Padmé inclined her head about an inch—it was as far as she could move with Rabé in her hair and Eirtaé rubbing a hot, damp cloth along the side of her face to try to lift the last stubborn traces of white. “I'm glad you approve,” she said with no trace of sarcasm. “It's flattering to hear that there's so much support for extending my term in light of the instabilities from the invasion, but those kinds of emergency powers are too dangerous a precedent to set without dire need.”

Eirtaé hummed in agreement and set aside her cloth to replace it with a new one. Padmé sighed happily into the warm towel. Having been under the same heavy makeup, Sabé understood only too well what a relief it was.

“It was well handled, my lady,” said Eirtaé. She checked briefly that they'd gotten off all of the important layers and then took up the day's outer robe to fold it. “Before I forget...” As if she ever forgot these things. “Did you have a preference for what you wanted to wear tomorrow?”

Padmé groaned and pulled the towel off her face. Behind her, Rabé finally pulled her comb freely through the lock of problem hair, and punched the air with the hand not attached to her mistress' head.

“It doesn't need to be anything symbolic,” the Queen said. “Formal, but it's just—”

“Land-use policies with the Gungans,” Eirtaé finished agreeably.

“A new independent trade agreement with Alderaan,” Padmé finished at the same time.

There was a pause.

Eirtaé looked at the Queen. “You're meeting with the Gungans tomorrow, my lady,” she said slowly.

“No.” There was just the slightest edge of Amidala's steel in her voice. “I blocked the day off for negotiations with the party from Alderaan.” It wasn't that they expected there would be trouble with the negotiation, precisely—Naboo and Alderaan were hardly enemies. But both sides, even assuming complete honesty, would have the interests of their own people to look out for, and the precise wording of the agreement would take a great deal of work from all involved.

Eirtaé picked up a datapad from the table next to her, clicked through a series of menus, and handed it over.

Padmé frowned.

“Apparently,” she said, “I have a meeting with the Gungans tomorrow.”

Sabé cleared her throat. “The delegation from Alderaan might be willing to postpone, my lady,” she offered.

Padmé was shaking her head before she'd even finished. “It would be an insult,” she said. “And at least one of the more prominent delegates was only able to come for a day, I remember that. She was very insistent on it. Yes, Saché, what is it?”

Saché lowered her hand and said, “There's a committee on resource allocation meeting tomorrow too, your highness.”

There was another, considerably longer, pause.

“Well,” said Padmé. “Aside from Sabé, who's the best at impersonating me?”

Eirtaé pointed at Saché, who was pointing at Rabé and Yané, who were pointing at each other. Rabé quickly shifted her focus to Eirtaé, who noticed and tugged incredulously on a lock of her own hair.

Padmé sighed.

* * *

You're not paranoid if someone is really after you.

This was, apparently, the logic behind the intricate system of avoidance routes the Handmaidens of Naboo had laid out throughout the palace. None of them were precisely _hidden_ routes, but they did allow for the Queen and a double to walk across the palace at the same time, never be seen together, and never appear in two places in which plausible deniability could not be maintained if someone were to spot one and then the other.

It was, frankly, a work of only slightly deranged art.

“And if _you_ stick to the green clockwise and white north-south route, and only switch to westbound blue for the one staircase, we should be able to make this work,” Padmé summarized.

Sabé nodded tersely as Eirtaé frowned into her face, making a miniscule adjustment to the Scar of Remembrance.

“It's not perfect,” she sighed. “But it's as close as we're going to get. The non-interaction routes work, my lady, but the timing has to be right. Signal before you move.” She clipped the wireless transmitter behind the face of a large, gaudy jewel on Sabé's bracelet. Padmé's was in the pendant. Both sets of jewelry were functionally identical, but they were hoping that by switching the locations of the signalling devices they would avoid cluing anyone into the deception by way of Queen Amidala suddenly developing a consistent and unexplained tic.

Eirtaé sincerely doubted it would be enough. Sabé was, despite her reluctance to call them twins, eerily identical to the Queen. But when it came to actually speaking...

She sighed. Queen Amidala had spent most of last night and all of this morning coaching her double in what concessions she should and should not suggest, which ones they could and could not afford to accept, and some niceties and platitudes to smooth the way with each individual group. If Sabé didn't freeze completely, she should at least be able to keep the proceedings moving while the Queen dealt with more essential matters in the other two meetings.

It should work. They had the timing of every switch planned out, with just the right amount of wiggle room in between them. If everything went according to plan...

Hurried footsteps sounded in the hall outside and Rabé bolted into the chamber, slamming the door behind her and pressing against it, wild-eyed.

“We have a problem,” she whispered.

The Queen closed her eyes, counted visibly to ten, and opened them again. “What's happened?” she asked, edged with the deadly flatness of her formal tone.

“A pipe burst in the conference room we were going to put the invasion recovery resource allocation committee in,” said Rabé, in a voice more suited to delivering the news that the entire palace had unexpectedly dropped dead. “We had to move them to the secondary dining hall on the third floor.”

For several merciful seconds, they were relieved. This was the disaster?

Then the pin dropped.

Fingers heavy with dread, Eirtaé traced non-interaction routes on the palace schematic they were sitting around.

There weren't any that would allow a Queen and decoy to travel between the three rooms unobserved.

All four of them swore violently.

* * *

 “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Ambassador.”

“Not at all, your highness. Thank you for having us.” Padmé sat across from the delegation from Alderaan, all of whom followed her lead. “Well, we won't waste words. Alderaan respects your assertion that in light of recent events Naboo needs more solid, independent trade agreements—partnerships made in addition to the assumed friendships between Republic worlds.”

“Assumed is an appropriate word, Ambassador,” she replied carefully. “We would like to call Alderaan our friend.”

The ambassador spread her hands. “As would we, and we appreciate your trust in reaching out to us. However, much as we support Naboo's steps toward stabilizing herself after her recent hardships, I'm sure you understand that we cannot enter an arrangement that does not profit our own people. I'm sure we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Naboo does not ask for charity,” Padmé said coolly. “We are confident in our ability to improve the lives and fortunes of our trading partners. Shall we begin?”

The Alderaanan ambassador handed her a datapad. “Gladly, Queen Amidala. If I may draw your attention to the first point of contention...”

* * *

“Remember,” Saché whispered. “Just... signal if you need to get out, if the bracelet buzzes it means Her Highness is moving... just stick to the script and try to let them do most of the talking.”

“I am aware,” Sabé said coolly.

Saché nodded. “That was good,” she said. “Keep doing that. Good luck. Your Highness.”

Sabé flashed her a tight but genuine smile before taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and opening the door wide.

“Aaah, Queen Amidala. Wesa wondering if yousa would be showing up.”

“My apologies, Boss Nass.” She took her seat and gripped the arms of the chair just tightly enough to ground herself. “Thank you for agreeing to come to the palace. There was a slight plumbing incident we were forced to attend to; it was not my intention to make you wait. The fair and equal sharing of our land is essential to continuing this peace between our people, and it is of the utmost importance to us. Perhaps the Gungans should have the honor of opening the proceedings.”

* * *

“Is anything on fire yet?” Yané muttered out of the corner of her mouth as she slipped out of an alcove to walk beside Eirtaé.

“Don't jinx it,” Eirtaé whispered back. Yané winced and dropped back to a more normal walk, letting Eirtaé hurry on toward the third-floor dining room while she ducked into a stairway. Eirtaé glanced out the window; Saché was already positioned unobtrusively along the wall near the kitchens. Good. Fé would cover this window, which would be a danger point. Rabé was covering an intersection on the first floor, poor girl. Eirtaé was on emergency delegate wrangling duty, as well as handling any sudden route changes. The others had also been recruited, taking up tactical positions at various points around the palace in case they needed a distraction like a dropped plate, broken vase, or impromptu blaster fight.

It was going to be a long day.

She paused outside the door to let her shoulders fall and shed her businesslike demeanor for demure politeness.

“Good morning,” she murmured, slipping inside with a basket of fresh fruit from the gardens. “Her Highness apologizes for the delay. We've had a pipe burst rather seriously and it's required a lot of her attention this morning. She hopes she has your understanding, and will be with you shortly. Is there anything you need in the meantime?”

One of the committee members cleared his throat. “Some water wouldn't go amiss, if it's no trouble.”

“Not at all, sir,” she responded with a slight bow, letting herself back out of the room. “It will only be a moment.”

She walked, slowly and sedately, down to the kitchens. The sooner she got back, the sooner the resource allocation committee would start wondering where the Queen was again.

* * *

Padmé glanced anxiously at the time. The Alderaan delegation had made several reasonable demands and several that were less reasonable but which she was confident she could haggle down. She'd made exhaustive notes she intended to pass to Dané—they'd stationed a handmaiden outside each of the conference rooms.

She wondered how Sabé was doing with the Gungans, then hastily decided not to think too much about that.

“Thank you for your understanding, your highness,” one of the delegates—not the Ambassador—said. “I imagine you have a response to many of these points.”

“We do.” And she'd left Sabé alone for far too long already. “I suggest a recess; I must confer with my advisers, and it would do well for our negotiations to allow them to proceed without rushing. I have arranged for a light brunch,” which was a lie, but she had faith in her staff. “If you will excuse me, Ambassador.”

If the Ambassador was surprised by the move, she didn't show it. “Of course, your highness. We'll reconvene in, say—”

The door swung shut on Padmé's heels as she slipped the datapad into Dané's sleeve and squeezed the communicator in her pendant.

* * *

“Boss Nass.” Sabé fought to remain polite. “I fail to understand what the Gungans intend to do with this farmland. We were under the impression that yours was a semiaquatic species.”

Boss Nass shook his jowls furiously, sending a glob of Gungan spittle into her eye. Sabé twitched, said nothing, maintained a straight face, and privately thought she deserved a medal of some sort for managing it.

“Yousa not hearrrring what wesa say! Yousa think, the Naboo, theysa all deserving of good land, and we? Not.”

“I—That is not true, I assure you—”

Sabé's wrist buzzed quietly, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening.

“Why yousa be invitin' ussens here, if wesa not changing anything?”  
  
“Boss Nass,” she said, rising. “May I suggest a recess? We can both return to the table with clearer heads in a moment.”

The massive Gungan waved a hand in disgust but didn't threaten to leave, which was good enough for her. She managed not to bolt out of the room, and slipped her notes to Yané before turning to follow the gallery wall to the end of the hallway and then up, kitty-corner to the secondary dining room. Somehow, this was apparently the best route. She was trusting Eirtaé on that part.

* * *

 Padmé made it all of fifty feet before Rabé caught her eye from down the hallway and made a frantic throat-slicing gesture. Padmé instinctively ducked into an alcove as a small group of male voices approached from the connecting corridor.

“...should be a simple fix, hopefully—good morning, m'lady.”

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Rabé was all charm and gentility. “May I help you?”

“Oh.” The poor man sounded quite flustered. “Oh, no, sorry, ma'am. I wouldn't want one of the Queen's handmaidens to bother herself, miss, I'm just here about a pipe in the conference room. Fella at the door gave me a map.”

Rabé's laugh was almost convincing enough to be genuine. “It's no trouble at all, sir. To be honest, this has been a very slow day for me.” Padmé raised an unseen eyebrow. _That_ was pushing the bounds of honesty a little too far. “I would be happy to walk you there. Come, it's this way...”

Padmé risked a peek out of her alcove. Rabé had her hand resting lightly on the poor plumber's bicep, smiling softly and nodding at everything he stammered as she led him away. She shot a glance behind her, spotted her Queen, and jerked her head urgently down the connecting passage. Padmé sighed, stepped carefully into the open, and jogged as quietly as possible out of the intersection.

* * *

 "Your Highness,” the girl at the door whispered. She was new. “Is that you?”

“Of course,” Sabé said evenly. The girl handed her a blank datapad, and she nodded politely—Padmé might actually kill her if she scared the poor girl, she _still_ hadn't heard the end of the fact that the little Jedi boy they'd rescued on Tattoine had apparently gotten the impression she was a cruel slaveowner. “Thank you.” She paused. “Forgive me. Your name?”

“Tanné, Your Highness,” the girl replied, looking pleased.

Sabé smiled. “I remember.” She did, actually. Average girl, but honest and dependable. “Welcome. And thank you. We appreciate your help.”

Thank goodness for royal plurals, or she would have just given the game away. She bit her tongue and pushed the dining room doors open.

“My apologies for the delay,” she said graciously as the committee rose, looking relieved. “Let us waste no more time on my behalf.”

* * *

Yané very nearly tackled her.

“You just called a recess,” she said urgently, handing the Queen a datapad on which Sabé's slightly disorganized notes were jotted. One of the bullet points was _Help_. “Wait at least ten minutes or it will look all wrong.”

Padmé managed to keep her heart rate steady, which she was proud of. “I just called a recess with Alderaan,” she said urgently. “The longer I wait here...!”

“I know,” Yané moaned. “She didn't have a choice.”

Padmé glanced over her shoulder.

“Ten minutes,” she allowed, and accepted Yané's gentle prodding into the nearest broom closet as gracefully as she could.

* * *

 “Your Highness, surely you must realize that after demonstrating our vulnerability to the galaxy in such a spectacular fashion—!”

“I realize,” Sabé said with cold fury, “That the funds for recovering from the invasion must be put toward actual recovery efforts. We will not allow fear to corrupt our entire society!”

One of the other committee members raised his hands placatingly. “It's hardly corruption to protect our people, your highness,” he said. “Your idealism is admirable, but the needs of your people—”

“Do not include a military state. The people did not elect me to make the same mistakes and embrace the same violence they sought to escape! I will not allow this!”

One of the more reasonable committee members stood. “Gentlemen,” she said. “Your Highness. Might I suggest we adjourn? Cooler heads will prevail.”

Sabé stood as well. They'd neglected the Alderaanans. “It will do you no good,” she informed them. She was getting better at the Amidala Voice. “I will not be bullied into permitting a perversion of the recovery effort in the name of nebulous security. I would also call for a recess, so that you will have ample opportunity to put this madness to rest and suggest viable alternatives.”

She turned and walked out of the room so that none of them could see the abject relief on her face. Padmé had warned her they would try something like this. She'd been reciting the speech in her head all morning so she wouldn't stutter in the middle of it and ruin her lady's reputation as a public speaker.

Right. Alderaan.

The girl at the door started forward anxiously as she stormed past, and Sabé gestured for her to stay where she was as she pressed the transmitter.

Green route. Yes. She could do this. She tucked the datapad with her notes into a sleeve on autopilot, and made for the conference room.

* * *

No one had warned Padmé about the paint.

She wasn't certain why they even _had_ a large container of bright purple paint sitting around in a closet, but that hadn't stopped her from tripping and putting her elbow in it. She winced. That wasn't coming out.

By the time Yané came back for her, she'd managed to work her way out of the robe—which had, at one point, been a rather stunning shade of sunshine gold offset with emerald and would never be the same again—without harming any of the layers underneath. She used the extra time to read through her double's notes and form a plan.

“My lady—Oh.”

Padmé handed her the robe and brushed herself off.

“Send someone to warn Sabé that she needs a wardrobe adjustment. Before my next meeting, please.”

* * *

“Good afternoon, my lady.”

Sabé took the stairs carefully, counting her steps the way she and Padmé had been practicing for years. “Eirtaé. I trust everything is well.”

“Of course, your highness,” Eirtaé assured her, before dragging her behind a pillar and pulling her clothes off.

“Um,” Sabé stammered as Eirtaé's expert fingers flew over a myriad of buttons and fastenings. “It's me.”

Eirtaé gave her a Look.

“I know that,” she said flatly. “You put your elbow in a tub of paint, Your Highness.”

Oh, Padmé. “Of course,” said Sabé as Eirtaé turned her around briskly and eased the robe off her shoulders. “How clumsy of me.”

“Gungans,” Eirtaé pleaded.

“I thought I was the resource—”

“ _Don't ask_.”

* * *

 “Tanné, isn't it?” Padmé took a fortifying breath. At least she didn't have to worry about causing a diplomatic incident with the recovery resource committee. It should be relaxing by comparison. “My notes?” she prompted when the girl looked at her helplessly.

“You never gave them to me, Your Highness,” she whispered.

Oh, _Sab_ _é_. Why _now_.

“My apologies,” she said evenly. “I must have forgotten.”

“Your Highness.” The committee chairperson stood as she entered, looking irritable. What Sabé could possibly have managed to say to them _already_ boggled the imagination. “If you are ready to return to the table, after discussion we have determined that the necessity of a protective military presence is not something we can ignore.”

Well, they'd pulled no punches. “We cannot afford that kind of backsliding,” she said firmly. “I will not allow it, and Naboo will not tolerate it.”

“With respect, Queen Amidala.” One of the committee members smiled in a way that was anything but respectful. “As admirable as your commitment to peace no doubt is, you would be wise to accept the council of those with more experience in these matters.”

“ _You forget yourself, sir._ ” He started, ever so slightly, and she resisted the urge to smirk. Sabé, bless her loyal heart, was very good at pretending to be the Queen. Padmé didn't have to pretend. “You were not called here in the capacity of a military adviser. We have a cabinet of military advisers, all of whom have decades of actual experience in the military. The purpose of this meeting is the allocation of financial resources earmarked for assisting our people in rebuilding following an invasion of our world. If you were misinformed about this, you have our apologies. However, we will return to the matter at hand. I will tolerate no more diversions.”

There was a weighted pause, and the chairperson cleared their throat.

“Your Highness,” they said, sounding appropriately cowed. “Several major roads were badly damaged by droid transport units. The damage has yet to be repaired.”

Padmé allowed herself a small smile. “Do we possess information on the location and severity of the damaged roads?”

“We do, your highness.”

She accepted the proffered datapad gracefully. “Then that is where we will begin.”

* * *

 The intersection was going to be difficult.

The problem, Rabé had determined, was that she only had two eyes and they could only point in one direction at a time. She made a mental note to see if they couldn't get some Gungans on the force.

Of course, the situation was not helped by the fact that this was the point at which the two Queens couldn't help but cross in some capacity. And Eirtaé had left her to monitor it. Alone.

Rabé really, really wanted to strangle something.

“Oh,” she said brightly instead. “And you're from the delegation from Alderaan, you said?”

“I am, yes,” the young man said. “In a manner of speaking, at least. I'm an assistant to the Ambassador. A bit like you are to Her Highness, I imagine.”

Right, Rabé thought. Of course you are. Though she had to admit, the man would look lovely in the Ambassador's dress.

“That must be terribly exciting,” she cooed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an Amidala peek briefly around the corner and then duck back behind it again. She shifted slightly closer to the window, and her conversation partner turned just that small bit as well.

He grinned. “You say that like you never see any excitement. You ladies have got quite the reputation even off Naboo, you know.”

Behind him, another Amidala came around a corner, spotted them, and froze. Rabé kept smiling, and hoped it didn't look as maniacal as it felt. The Amidala backed up carefully and sidled down a side corridor. Meanwhile, Amidala One—the one still trapped at the end of the intersection to Rabé's right—peered out again and made an urgent gesture.

“Really?” Rabé asked, leaning against the wall and fluttering her eyelashes. “I'm almost afraid to ask. Spare a lady's feelings.”

“All positive things, I assure you,” said the young man. Her worst fears were confirmed when his eyes slid off her, apparently more interested in the architecture. She scooted as far to her left as she could manage without being too obvious. To her relief, despite the young man's apparent disinterest in her flirting he was still politely mirroring her, and turned just far enough away that when Amidala One stuck her head out again, she apparently decided the coast was as clear as it was going to get.

“Really?” Rabé said faintly, aggressively maintaining eye contact.

“Oh, yes.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and admired the flowers outside the window as the Queen of Naboo, or possibly Sabé, sprinted past behind him. “Courage, discipline, devotion, subtlety... the legends are quite larger than life.”

“I hope we live up to them,” she answered, far less flirtatiously. Amidala Two had apparently decided to cut across outside through the kitchens, but she was waiting for an all-clear. Rabé edged to the right until her new friend turned to lean against the windowsill and admire the molding along the ceiling again. She flashed a handheld mirror behind her back, and whichever Amidala was in the courtyard picked up her skirts and ran across it. Rabé breathed a sigh of relief when she had safely ducked into the exterior kitchen door.

“Queen Amidala certainly has,” he said admiringly. “I have to say, I appreciate the way you run these affairs on Naboo. It's slow, certainly, but it's obvious how determined your Queen is to let everyone take the time to really think about the agreement. So often by now the talks would be tense because everyone would be tired and stressed from talking in circles. She's ensuring that everyone maintains a positive outlook and avoids getting too fatigued. It's a treat to work with a savvy politician who so obviously has her people's best interests at heart.”

Rabé's smile wasn't forced this time. “I couldn't agree more, sir.”

He smiled at her. “She was kind enough to arrange lunch, but I wanted a bit of fresh air. I think I might duck into the kitchens and see if I can grab something light.” He bowed slightly. “It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am.”

Rabé was under strict orders not to tackle delegates unless she absolutely had to, so she settled for flashing an urgent mayday to where Saché was watching in the courtyard.

* * *

Sabé edged into the steam-filled kitchens and tried very hard to act like she belonged there. To their credit, other than briefly pausing to bow and greet her, the kitchen staff largely ignored her presence and went about their business. She thanked every higher power she knew of that Padmé maintained such good relations with everyone in the palace.

The head chef—a crisp, no-nonsense woman whom Sabé knew for a fact funneled leftovers and extra food to a children's home in the city, and often arranged them elaborate pastry spreads for holidays out of her own pocket—approached her with a polite nod. “Your Highness,” she said. “What can we do for you?”

Sabé lifted her head. “Passing through,” she said. Inwardly she winced. It was difficult to maintain the deception outside of a formal setting. “Don't let me bother you.”

If anyone found her impersonation odd, no one commented on it. The chef acknowledged Sabé with a nod and went back to supervising her kitchen, and Sabé tried to cross the room without covering herself in any more flour than necessary.

“Sorry about this,” Saché muttered in her ear as the door opened, and then she'd been kicked behind the knees and shoved to the ground, smothered by rich green velvet.

Before she could demand an explanation, one was provided in the form of a friendly and unfamiliar male voice. Sabé crouched behind Saché, pressed uncomfortably against a stove, until a poke at her shoulder informed her she could stand.

“Change of plans,” Saché muttered as she checked Sabé for obvious stains. “Alderaan.”

“But—”

“Her Highness's instructions,” she hissed, nudging her toward the door. Sabé shook her head, but didn't argue.

Saché whispered something frantically as she hurried out of the kitchen, but Sabé didn't hear what it was and didn't have time to ask.

* * *

Eirtaé was having a very bad day.

This was the twelfth switch of the day, and they had lost all semblance of control over the situation around the fourth. Any plan that involved the Queen jumping out a window was, as a general rule, a bad plan.

The only bright side was that the resource allocation committee had finally concluded. Signed, stamped, and sealed, and if the issue of whether or not it was a legal document was ever raised no one could prove Sabé had been the one to finalize it. This was largely because they honestly had no idea whether it had been or not. She doubted even Sabé herself could have said with certainty.

It had been that kind of afternoon.

She was just swinging by the Gungans' conference room to get an update from Yané when the door burst open.

Amidala—it was probably Padmé, but at this point Eirtaé was having trouble remembering which one was actually Queen, let alone telling them apart—exited among a group of very large, enthusiastic Gungans, one of whom had his arm around her shoulders.

 _Help,_ she signaled.

For a brief moment Eirtaé snapped into 'royal kidnapping' mode. She had a blaster strapped to her thigh, she could take out Boss Nass if she had to and probably at least one or two of the guards... she shook herself. That was ridiculous. The Gungans were allies now, and hadn't been enemies per se in living memory.

“Your Highness?” Eirtaé called clearly.

Boss Nass spread his arms. “Wesa making good choice, when wesa trusting thissen.”

One of the guards clapped Amidala on the shoulder. “Wesa celebrate!” she said. “Issa muy big step towards having peace with all of ussen.”

 _Alderaan?_ Amidala mouthed frantically. Eirtaé really, really wished she had an answer for her.

“Yousa coming?” asked the guard.

“I have duties to attend to, ma'am,” Eirtaé said with a half-bow. “I'm glad to hear the talks were successful.” Amidala met her gaze and nodded slightly. Very successful, then. The Gungans expressed their disappointment that she wouldn't be joining them, and continued down the corridor. Eirtaé let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Two down, one to go.

She glanced out the window just in time to see Amidala approaching the intersection from the connecting hallway. The same intersection that the Gungan delegation and their Amidala were about to hit.

Eirtaé was having a very, _very_ bad day.

* * *

Sabé managed to reach the conference room door just as the last of the Alderaan delegation was filing in.

“Your Highness,” he said politely, standing aside and holding the door open for her. She inclined her head regally and slipped into her seat.

She glanced at the datapad of notes; the last time she'd seen the Alderaanans they had been very close to finalizing their agreement, and the brief words Padmé had managed to pass to her via Fé (via Saché via Eirtaé) had been encouraging. Still, she wanted to know what was going on.

 

 

>   * _Water purification measures = reasonable, absolute_
> 
>   * _Gungans have right to farmland—balance out with aquatic farmland we can't use, make as equal as possible respective to population size_
> 
>   * _(Allowing for Gungan population growth)_
> 
>   * _Forest as Gungan land = protective buffer = reasonable, noninvasive. Approve._
> 
> 


 

Sabé was suddenly extremely grateful for the royal face paint. None of the delegates had noticed her pale. Really, she thought, resigned, it was a miracle it had taken this long for them to mix up their datapads.

_Padmé, please know what you're doing._

“Well, your highness,” said the Ambassador. “We appreciate the gesture, but having looked over the agreement we can think of no further changes we feel a need to make. Do your advisors disagree?”

I don't know, Sabé thought. Hopefully, she wasn't about to doom Naboo to a thousand years of poverty and despair. “I am glad to hear it. We are more than happy with the arrangement as it stands, and willing to finalize it if you are.”

The Ambassador reached over the table and shook her hand. “It's been a pleasure working with you, Queen...” She paused and frowned.

Sabé sat forward. “Is there a problem, Ambassador?”

“No,” one of the other delegates said slowly. “It's just...”

Sabé tried to remember her mistress' now-iconic address to the Senate. “Just _what_.”

“Your hair,” the younger of the group offered apologetically. “It's, um... smoking, your highness.”

Sabé had a vivid flashback of pressing against a stove.

“...No it isn't,” she replied. Ah yes. Padmé Amidala, the finest orator Naboo had seen in centuries.

“Um,” said the young man. “It kind of is, a bit.”

“It's symbolic.” Maybe she would get lucky and the Trade Federation would invade again. That had been so much easier. “Fire. Of... Liberty. Nabooan tradition.”

There was a pause while her hair smoldered.

“The trade agreement, Ambassador,” she said weakly.

* * *

“What— _Ow—!_ ”

“Shut up!” Eirtaé hissed at a broom closet that she very much hoped did not contain the Queen of Naboo. She was at least 45% certain the actual Padmé had been the one with the Gungans, who was just now crossing the intersection.

“Eirtaé?” Her eye twitched, but she managed to approximate a smile as Captain Panaka turned the corner from a side corridor. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, Captain,” she assured him. He actually took half a step back, and she tried to tone down the admittedly alarming brightness of her smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked cautiously. “I thought I heard a scuffle.”

There was a sound of something heavy falling off a shelf in the closet, followed by a very quiet, muffled curse.

“ _Everything is fine._ ”

* * *

By the time Padmé finally made it back to her chambers, the other girls were already waiting for her in various stages of unconsciousness.

“I am never moving again,” Sabé moaned. Fé hid a yawn in her elbow as she folded the double's goldenrod robe over her arm. They'd apparently had time to get Sabé out of her disguise completely; she looked far more natural in a plain white shift than even the most flattering royal costume. She also looked half-dead, but that was only to be expected.

Saché was the most alert of all of them, which wasn't saying much. “If you don't sit up I can't get the face paint off,” she pointed out. Sabé made a deeply discontented sound, but pushed herself vaguely upright as Padmé limped into the room.

“Your Highness,” Yané greeted her, relieved. “We were wondering when you would be back.”

“It was kind of the Gungans to invite me to their celebration,” she said. “It would have been disrespectful to leave earlier.”

Rabé was already guiding her onto the sofa, pulling pins from her hair.

“We did it,” she pointed out with an exhausted smile as Fé, yawning again, pulled over a stool to start working on the Queen's makeup.

“Thanks to all of you,” Padmé agreed warmly. “Thank you.” Sabé hummed in agreement. “Especially—” She blinked. “Where's Eirtaé?”

The others' lips twitched, and a pale arm emerged from under a large, plush blanket that she had somehow not noticed on the floor.

“I don't think she's moving anywhere for a while, my lady,” Rabé said diplomatically.

“I think she's trying to smother herself,” Saché said, less diplomatically.

Padmé struggled to keep a straight face. “You were a godsend, Eirtaé,” she called to the lumpy blanket, voice thick with amusement. “You may remind Sabé and I as often as you like that we cannot function without you.”

It was a sign of how tired Sabé was that she didn't even bother putting up a token protest. Saché had finished removing her makeup, and Padmé suspected her handmaiden might very well have fallen asleep sitting up.

“Did you hurt your leg, my lady?” Yané asked as she nudged her onto her feet to help her out of the layers she had left.

“Ankle,” Padmé replied with a wry smile. “I twisted it on the stairs. It's not serious.”

Saché pulled a compression bandage out of a drawer anyway, kneeling at her mistress' feet to wrap her ankle while Yané pulled the final, vestlike garment off and left her Queen in an undershift.

Rabé cleared her throat. “I'll fetch you a nightgown, my lady,” she said kindly. “I don't expect you'll want to go anywhere tonight.”

Padmé held up a hand to stop her. “Actually,” she said. “I need some air.”

“Something informal, then?”

Padmé smiled. “I think I'd like to disappear.”

* * *

Unfortunately, Eirtaé was eventually forced to concede that it would be impractical to lie immobile on the floor of the Queen's dressing room for the rest of her natural life.

Tidying up the place with the others was physically undemanding and most of it was muscle memory, but by the time they were done she was still certain that once she collapsed into bed she might never get up again. In light of this, she thought, she really should get something to eat first. She would never convince herself to, otherwise. And a bit of air, to unwind, really did sound like a good idea.

The royal gardens were gorgeous this time of year, bursting with life and color. They were even more so late in the evening like this, with the heat of the day gone and the sun low in the sky. Eirtaé leaned against the windowsill, grateful to whoever had thought to open the windows today.

Really, the day could have gone much worse.

There was a slight movement in the garden below, and even as tired as she was, she was instantly on alert until she realized who it was.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one enjoying the gardens tonight.

The pair of handmaidens below were just as tired as the rest of them, but the one in front still laughed and pulled on her companion's hand as they stumbled barefoot through the grass. They'd been almost invisible in the trees—rich, deep emerald velvet among the dark green foliage. Even Eirtaé had barely seen them until they'd moved out into the relative open, surrounded by flowers where they could see the sunset over the meadow.

Eirtaé didn't bother hiding a fond smile. Sabé and the Queen deserved each other.

The first girl stopped to lean against a cast-iron fence, linking her hands behind her back so the bars wouldn't press into her. That was Padmé, she was reasonably certain; they moved differently, when neither of them was pretending. If you knew them well enough, you could always tell.

Padmé let her head fall back, smiling faintly as her eyes drifted closed. The smile widened, just a bit, when Sabé moved closer. Resting her hands loosely on the bars on either side of Padmé's ribs, the true handmaiden leaned into her.

“Eirtaé. A pleasure, as always.”

Startling slightly, Eirtaé turned and smiled—a genuine smile, for once. “Governor Bibble. The pleasure is mine.”

The Governor joined her at the window, sighing happily into the breeze. He smiled when he saw the pair in the garden. “Young love,” he said softly, then frowned. “I say... Is that Her Highness and Sabé, down there?”

Eirtaé kept a perfectly straight face. “Governor?”

Bibble looked concerned. “Fond as I am of both of them—and you know it's true, Eirtaé—I may be forced to confront Her Highness about this. A dalliance of this sort, especially with someone as deeply enmeshed in royal secrets as Sabé...”

Eirtaé held up a hand. “Peace, Governor. It's only two of the girls. I know them.”

He looked faintly relieved, but not entirely convinced. “Are you certain?” he asked, peering down again. “It looks a great deal like them.”

Eirtaé raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Governor,” she said. “You _do_ realize what you just said.”

After a moment to think, Bibble chuckled and shook his head. “Of course,” he said. “Ah, I'm getting old. Yes, it must be two of the others. Well, that's their own business, as long as it doesn't affect their service.”

“They have the Queen's blessing,” Eirtaé said truthfully.

Satisfied, Bibble nodded to her with a smile and continued on his way. Eirtaé stayed at her window. She was comfortable now, and didn't feel like moving on just yet.

Even from a reasonable distance, Eirtaé could see the tension fading from the pair in the garden as Sabé rested her head on her Queen's shoulder, nuzzling chastely into her neck. Padmé's hands left the fence in favor of finding the sash around Sabé's waist. She hooked her thumbs into the fabric and linked her fingers loosely behind her double's back.

If they spoke, Eirtaé didn't hear it. She didn't want to. All of them spent too much time playing their respective parts. They had few enough moments that were theirs.


End file.
